


What I said, what I meant, what I should have said so long ago

by MuseofWriting



Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: Comfort, First Kiss, Fluff, Hugs, Insecure Lance (Voltron), Keith (Voltron) Is Trying, Keith (Voltron) is Bad at Feelings, M/M, Season/Series 07, Touch-Starved
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-12
Updated: 2020-05-12
Packaged: 2021-03-03 04:27:17
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,733
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24138847
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MuseofWriting/pseuds/MuseofWriting
Summary: "I want you to be able to go home."
Relationships: Keith/Lance (Voltron)
Comments: 12
Kudos: 156





	What I said, what I meant, what I should have said so long ago

**Author's Note:**

> If you don't like pro-shippers (yes, including Sheith) over the age of 25 in fandom, then you don't get to read this fic, cause guess who I am. The back button is at the top of the screen.
> 
> Have my post-S7 vent fic that turned out kind of surprisingly well? I like it, at any rate, and it contains some timely isolation stress lol. Reposted from tumblr.
> 
> Technically canon-compliant up through the middle of S7 but very little actual canon is referenced, which is good because I've willfully forgotten most of canon past like S3 -_- XP

Their rest stops are luxuries. Keith, the lost years, and the threat of the Galra coming to Earth drive them forward mercilessly, as fast as they can go. When they do stop, it’s usually to get some exercise, make sure their muscles and their hand-to-hand skills don’t atrophy, and to replenish supplies. Still, true breaks are necessary from time to time, if they don’t want to dissolve into hating each other. Abandoned Marmora bases make for as good a place as any to take a pit stop. Austere as they are, they’re still more comfortable than the cramped cargo holds of the lions, they’re secure, and they almost always have non-perishable food and medical supplies available. They usually attempt to use their communications too, but that’s brought more misses than hits so far.

Lance leans against the wall of his chosen room with a sigh, contemplating the cot before him. He’s not sure whether to be depressed or thankful for the lack of windows. He never thought he’d get tired of seeing the night sky, but what he wouldn’t give for daylight, a glimpse of the sun. If he closes his eyes, he can almost picture it, sparkling off the surface of the ocean on a hot afternoon, when the water is deep and enticing.

“Lance?”

He jolts from his vision, glancing in vague annoyance at the door he thought he’d closed. Keith is peeking through the crack, a hand half raised.

“Need something?” he asks. Keith pushes the door, letting it swing open. Lance’s spirits sink as he imagines some last-minute evening drill, or a request that he help search for supplies through some battle-damaged basement, or— whatever could cause Keith to bite his lip and awkwardly scuff the floor before he speaks, because it can’t possibly be good. “Keith?” he asks uncertainly.

“I didn’t mean what I said!” Keith bursts out, so loud Lance flinches. His eyebrows knit together in confusion. Keith’s fingers twist together nervously. “I, I didn’t— In the game show. Garfle… whatever it was called. With Bob. When I said the reason I picked you to get out was because I didn’t want to be stuck there for eternity with you.”

Lance shrugs. He’s too tired to try and parse Keith’s motives right now, and he doesn’t much care. “Look, that game show was like a weird collective fever dream, I barely even remember what happened,” he says, as nonchalantly as he can. That’s a lie, mostly. It _does_ seem surreal in his memory, but “the dumb one” has joined the litany of phrases that jab him like needles in his moments of self-doubt, and the building, choking anxiety of failing to recognize face after face as his brain beats against his skull with a refrain of _dumb failure dumb failure dumb failure_ isn’t something he’s likely to forget, soon or ever.

“I chose you because I want you to be able to go home.” Lance frowns, pushing off the wall to stand face to face with Keith, who’s still looking away from him.

“You’re not trying to get rid of me, are you?” he asks. The smile playing around his lips dies when Keith shakes his head almost violently and finally meets his eyes.

“I didn’t really think we’d be stuck there forever,” Keith says. “I mean, I figured sooner or later Pidge or Allura or Hunk would have found us a way out. But just in case it took a long time, if I had to pick one person who got to leave, I wanted you to be able to go home. Because I know— I’ve heard you talk about your family. I know how much they mean to you. And I know you’ve stayed for us, and the universe, and you didn’t deserve to be trapped by some kind of… interdimensional madman.”

“Keith…” Lance says quietly. He feels awake again, staring at Keith, still getting used to his height, feeling a bizarre urge to step back so he can take all of him in. “I… thank you? You didn’t have to… For me, you didn’t—”

“And I don’t think you’re the dumb one.” Lance blinks, represses a grimace.

“Gee thanks,” he says, a bite of sarcasm bleeding into his voice.

“You’re not,” Keith insists. “We were designed to fail those puzzles. If what Coran said about Bob is true, he probably… plucked exactly the names you’d forgotten out of your head, or something.”

“Thanks,” Lance says, and it’s softer this time, he means it this time. “You know you didn’t have to come tell me all this, though, right? It’s late. You should get some rest.” He bites his tongue against how glad he is Keith _did_ , because his insecurities are his burden to carry, and they’ve all got enough on their minds. He doesn’t need to thrust Keith into being his therapist. He’ll handle it. He always does. Keith rubs his shoulder and looks away again.

“Yeah. I just— I wanted you to know.” He lingers awkwardly in the doorway, and Lance should tell him to leave, but he doesn’t, he can’t. He sees Keith drop his arm and it suddenly strikes him how long it’s been since he’s touched someone. Combat drills excepted – and even in those, he’s usually a ranged fighter – the Paladins have had very little physical contact lately. Without the Castle, gone are the movie nights crowded into the Castle's home theatre. Gone are Pidge and Hunk and him elbowing each other as they play Killbot. Gone are the days when they’d come back from training exhausted, and all just collapse across each other in the common room, in a tangle of limbs and heads and Hunk’s snores. So before he can think better of it, he opens his arms and offers, “Hug it out?”

Keith’s head jerks up and he stammers. “I, I, I’m not really much of a hugger?”

"That's okay, I'm a good enough hugger for both of us. If you want."

"Um, okay I… guess?" Before he’s finished his sentence, Lance has wrapped his arms around him, and Keith returns the gesture, at first awkwardly, then settling into it. Lance breathes, and the tension bleeds out of his shoulders as he sinks into Keith’s warmth. He needs this more than he thought, he realizes, he was desperate for this, cold and tense and isolated. Keith tightens his grip, fingers digging into his back, their bodies pressing together with a ferocity of need. They hug for a long time, far too long, Lance thinks, longer than they should, but then again, time in space is weird. The length of their hug might be warped by a star, over in a blink and lasting an entire age all at once. So maybe he can hang on just a little longer, maybe he can stay here just another second, just another moment, stay here where he can breathe, and it won’t matter, and no one has to know.

“Thank you,” he says again, this one muffled by Keith’s shoulder, and this time he means it more than he can convey. Keith’s fingers knot in the back of his shirt, twisting it, squeezing him so tight he can’t breathe, and then he finally steps away. Lance feels his heart fall as the cool air rushes back against his skin, as he struggles not to show the feeling of loss on his face. Keith is flushed. He gives Lance a silent nod and turns as if to go, and yet still doesn’t quite leave.

“I _did_ mean what I said,” Lance says suddenly. “You’re— you are the future. We couldn’t have done any of this without you. And I… I missed you when you were gone.” It’s his turn to duck his head and rub at his elbow uncomfortably. “Things just didn’t feel right without you.”

They both look back at each other, and they’ve stepped out of the hug, but they are close, they are _much_ too close, Lance thinks, he needs to step away before he does something he’ll regret. Except, as always, Keith is faster. He beats him to it. Lance finds himself staring surprised into defiant violet eyes, the pressure on his lips almost a challenge. It takes him a second to return it, to answer the challenge with pressure of his own, the sudden jolt of adrenaline and joy almost shoving Keith out the door himself. They break apart a moment later and stand panting, lips parted and eyes uncertain.

“We probably shouldn’t…” Keith says quietly. “I mean it’s not… We’re supposed to be…”

“You know, I really don’t think I care?” Lance says. And then Keith is on him again, a hand cupping his jaw, his mouth sliding open, and Lance brings a hand up to the back of Keith’s head to press him closer, fingers running through his mullet, and _oh_ , he’d be lying if he said he hadn’t wondered for a long time how that would feel.

They’re both panting for breath by the time they break apart, still held so close that Lance can feel Keith’s chest heaving against him, and he presses his forehead against Keith’s, breathing in his scent, breathing in his smile, just _breathing_.

“Stay with me tonight?” Lance asks, and he feels Keith freeze in his arms. “Not like that!” he adds hastily, pulling his head back to look at a suddenly wary face. “Not— that’s too fast. I just…” His hands trace down Keith’s back, resisting the urge to pull him ever closer and never let go. “I just want to stay with you.” Keith hesitates slightly, but he nods, and kisses the corner of Lance’s mouth lightly.

“Me too,” he says. Lance grins.

“We chose the worst time to do this, didn’t we?” he asks. Keith buries his head into Lance’s shoulder and laughs quietly.

“What else do you expect from us?” he asks. Lance relinquishes his hold on Keith enough to pull him back and look him in the face.

“I expect it to be messy,” he says, punctuating the adjective with a peck on the lips. “And crazy. And somehow we’ll probably nearly die. But,” he pauses, lost for a moment in Keith’s eyes, “but it’ll, it’ll be worth it,” he stammers. “It will definitely be worth it.” Keith’s mouth quirks up in a grin.

“Okay, sharpshooter,” he says. He leans back in. “Okay.”

**Author's Note:**

> Please leave comments if you enjoyed, especially if you're waiting for more WiS (it will inspire me to write faster) <3


End file.
